Equal and Opposite
by Mingsmommy
Summary: Post The Good, the Bad and the Dominatrix. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.


**Dislaimer: **None of the characters contained herein belong to me. But I do own 4 out of the 6 seasons on DVD. And that's about all I own. Please don't sue me.

**Spoilers: **Yes, ANOTHER post The Good, the Bad and the Dominatrix fic

**A/N: **I owe a deep debt of gratitude to phdelicious for her multiple betas on this and the title. She is so generous with her time and talent. I am SO grateful.

I wrote this because scullyseviltwin said I should and I do everything she says. It's sad, really.

* * *

_**For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.**_

_** —Newton's Third Law of Motion**_

He was surprised when she opened the door. He had expected to have to convince her to let him in. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought.

"Somebody kidnapped my dog." He gave her a tentative smile.

She leaned her head against the door giving him a sad, tired look. "He's my dog. You gave him to me for my birthday." She sighed and indicated he should come in with a wave of her hand.

Her suitcases and other bags rested against one of the plum colored walls. Several piles of blouses and other clothes on hangers were thrown over the chair by the desk.

The condo had been leased, furnished, to a visiting professor at UNLV for the past six months. That had allowed them the luxury of keeping separate addresses without the expense of paying a mortgage on an unused space. The professor had left just the week before and they had begun discussions about putting both places up for sale and buying a house. They hadn't yet decided whether to continue to keep separate addresses somehow or to let Ecklie know about their relationship.

"I thought he was our dog," He said softly, even as the beast in question heaved himself from the sofa to lean heavily against Grissom's legs.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and she turned her gaze down to the floor, but not before he saw what he was afraid were the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "'Our' indicates an 'us' and I don't think there is an 'us' any more."

He made a disbelieving and indignant sound as he absently scratched the top of Bruno's head. "Sara, you said I should do what I needed to do."

She raised her eyes to his and he saw the pool of unshed tears. "Now I'm doing what I need to do." She blinked and the tears overflowed; the tear from her left eye rolled directly down her face, while the drop from her right eye took a slower, less direct path. He thought of rate of descent, chaos theory, tear predictability and how much he hated to see her cry.

"You don't think you're over reacting?" He was tired and he hated scenes and tears; he just needed her to see reason, put a few things back in a bag and come home so they could both get some sleep.

After a last absent pat from Grissom, the dog ambled over to his newly relocated water bowl and began slurping.

Sara gave a bitter laugh. "No, not really." She shrugged and repeated, "Not really."

"Jesus, Sara, she's just a friend, she trusts me…" He was trying not to sound condescending, but he was afraid he was failing.

Quietly, she interrupted. "I told you before, I get it. And I do." She nodded towards the door. "I think you should go now."

"Sara! I can't believe this…I can't believe you." He shook his head. "She was desperate, suicidal and you think I should have walked away from that." He was torn between being puzzled and angry. Normally Sara was the most compassionate of people; why was she being so difficult about this?

"No, I think you did the right thing for her. You were a good friend to her." She brushed at her cheeks and nodded abruptly. "You were just a shitty boyfriend in the process."

He sighed heavily and sat down on the sofa. "I did not sleep with her."

"I didn't think you did." She remained unmoving by the door.

"Then what? What is so damned tragic about this that you've got to run away?" Her stillness was unnerving. Sara was always moving, humming and vibrating with energy and thought, so that even at rest she appeared to be moving.

But now there was no hum, no vibration only utter stillness, peace almost. He was suddenly frightened. This was not a miffed girlfriend moment, this was not a fit of pique; this was real, she was serious and he was scared.

She smiled at him, sadly. "I could explain it all day Grissom, but you won't get it, you're not ever going to get it. That's something I'm just now getting." She indicated the door again. "I would like for you to leave."

He understood the biology of fear. The adrenaline rush. Two choices. Fight or flight. He anchored himself more firmly on her sofa. "No."

She sighed loudly and moved away from the door. He felt hope flair briefly in his chest until she by-passed him to move to her shoes at the other end of the sofa. She slipped them on and grabbed her keys from the table in front of him. His hand shot out and grasped her wrist.

"Sara," his voice softened. "Honey, please, I'm sorry." It occurred to him he really didn't know what he was apologizing for but as upset as she was he wasn't going to point that out.

She stared at his fingers around her wrist, she looked into his eyes, then pointedly back to her wrist. Slowly, guiltily, he released her. "Sara," his lips were suddenly very dry and he felt his heart rate increase. "Please, just, please…tell me…please."

Her hand dropped to her side and her gaze became unfocused. "I have…when you left to go to Williams. I…you are the most important person, the most important thing in my life."

"Sara," he reached for her again but she held out a staying hand.

"I need to be that for someone…"

"You are, Sara," his voice was a choking rasp. "You are to me." Drawn by the distress in his peoples' voices, Bruno threw himself down on the floor beside the sofa.

She pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling and shook her head. "I'm not." She drew in a shuddering breath, "I wish I was. I thought I could be, but I'm not."

"Sara," he searched for the right words to say. "I'm not good at this…I've never had a successful relationship…"

A derisive snort. "No, shit." A sudden rush of verbal venom and then it was gone. "Neither have I…because, you know what? If either one of us had ever had a successful relationship we would be in those successful relationships instead of here," she swallowed thickly, still without looking at him, "each wishing the other was different."

"God, Sara, just tell me what I need to say, tell me what I need to do…" he reached out toward her but found himself afraid to touch her. "I didn't mean to hurt you…I didn't think how…"

"Gil, don't." She shook her head. "I know you weren't trying to hurt me." She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "But people in committed relationships don't find out…things…after the fact…from co-workers." The line of her lips thinned out. "I should have known where you were before I heard through the lab grapevine you were providing an old girlfriend an alibi."

He was approaching panic now. Her composed demeanor was far more frightening to him than ranting and raving. He swallowed past a large lump in his throat and tried again, "Just let me…"

"I can't do this, Gris." She shook her head. "I can't do this anymore."

She swallowed, her eyes were fixed on a place on the wall just above his right shoulder. "I chased you for years, you only wanted me when I gave up."

A raised eyebrow quelled the beginnings of his interruption. "You talk about smothering and I back off. You leave me for a month and only tell me a couple of days before; no letters, no phone calls, but then you come back and jump back into bed with me like there's nothing wrong."

He watched the muscles in her jaw tense and release, watched her chest rise and fall with a deep breath but he dared not speak.

"And I…just kept waiting." She swiped at another tear on her cheek. "There's this voice in my head and it keeps telling me it's enough or it will get better or you didn't mean to hurt me or I have to try harder to be what you need and when you didn't come home last night? When you didn't call, when Catherine…" she snorted, "_Catherine_ of all people, tells me she's angry with you because you spent the night at Heather's house? I finally recognized the voice." Her lips trembled. "It was my mother's voice." She closed her eyes and when she spoke again her voice was stronger. "And I am not going to be my mother, Gil. I'm not going to settle. I'm not going to pretend bad behavior is all right when its not; I'm not going to excuse or forgive it over and over again. I am done."

He felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting. He couldn't even begin to think of how to respond, so he just sat and watched the woman in front of him.

Sara pushed her hair back from her forehead with a trembling hand. "I love you and I'm sorry if you're not ready to let go, but I can't be this woman. I can't live with myself if I become her."

The heavy weight of an unspeakable sadness settled over him. Had he really done this to her? Had he really done this to them? "Sara, sweetheart," He reached forward and lightly grasped her fingers. "I love you."

She nodded. "I know." She finally met his gaze. "But I need more than that." She reached out and brushed a tear that he was not aware he had shed from his cheek. "I'll miss you."

He felt sick to his stomach, overwhelmed with pain and nausea. "I'm not letting you go."

Not acknowledging him, she turned towards the door. "I'm going out for a while." She inhaled deeply, her back ramrod straight. "You can spend some time with Bruno, but please, don't stay too long. I need…I need for you to be gone when I get back."

She paused with her hand on the knob, speaking slowly. "Tonight I'm putting in for some vacation time for next week. I thought I'd get away for a few days. If you want, he can stay with you while I'm gone."

"No, Sara,.."

She shrugged, "I'll take him with me then."

"That's not…I am not giving you up." He took in a shaking breath. "I…you should have told me…god, Sara, if I had known you would leave me over this…"

Turning her shimmering gaze back to him, he saw, briefly, a flash of anger pass over her features. "No," she shook her head, "you would have hated me for that. Besides," The anger had passed as quickly as it came, "if I was your first thought, no ultimatum would have been necessary. It's better this way." She nodded to herself. "At least I know."

He stared at her, desperately wanting something to argue, something to push against, a way to convince her, to change her mind. But she had given him nothing to oppose, nothing for him to counter. She was just there: still and stable and right.

"I'll do better, I swear." He blew out a breath. "I can change."

Sadly giving him a soft smile, she shook her head. "Do what you need to do and I'll do what I need to do." She nodded again. "Don't forget to lock the door when you leave."

He watched as she stepped out the door and into the sun.


End file.
